


Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name

by nirejseki



Series: Slices of Life [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coldwaveweek2016, First Meetings, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:30:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6247360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Closest I ever came to dying was the day I met Mick...Wasn't like that, it was my first day in juvie and I was 14 and smallest kid in there by far, some of the older kids wanted to make sure I knew it. So they jumped me, I fought back, but one of them had a shiv. I figured that was it. Then Mick stepped in. He's been standing up for me ever since."<br/>-Leonard Snart, Legends of Tomorrow 1.07 ("Marooned")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name

I'm going to die. That much seems pretty obvious; there's four – fuck, five – of them, they're all bigger than me, and they've got my arms pinned down. I'm kicking as best as I can with one knee out of joint and a few ribs with definite cracks in them, but it's a lost cause, and the asshole I just kicked in the face just pulled out a shiv and he's looking like he wants to shove it right in my gut. Best case scenario here is a non-fatal stab; side, leg, arm, maybe, and if I'm lucky enough not to bleed out before one of the fuckers in charge notices, I'm still looking at a few months fighting off an infection that'll make absolutely sure that I can't fight them off next time. So, yeah, this is it. I'm going to die. Lisa's never going to forgive me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” someone roars from the door and for half a second I think it's one of the teachers, but instead it's this massive guy just wading in there. Grabs asshole-with-a-knife by the back of his shirt and just _tosses_ him across the room, and it's so fucking cool. Of course, then the guy standing by my head tries to tackle the guy, stepping on my goddamn head in the process, but by the time my ears stop ringing and everything's the right side up again, half of the assholes are on the ground holding various parts of their respective anatomies and the other half are backing off with their hands in the air, so I'm going to count this one as a win.

The guy glares at them till they all pick themselves off the ground and get out of dodge before turning to me. I sit up and try to wipe at my nose with my sleeve; I don't know if it's started bleeding or if I just started snotting all over myself in terror. Really hoping it's the first one, because this conversation is going to suck and I don't need any more disadvantages. The guy's huge; he's like the NFL guys you see on television, except worse 'cause he's right in front of me and I still haven't cracked five feet myself. Plus, let's not forget, he just scared off five guys with at least one knife between them.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” he asks.

I draw myself up as best as I can. _Don't show them you're weak_. “Thanks for the assist, but if you think you're getting anything out of me 'cause of it, get bent.” 

Guy looks at me. “Tough words for someone who can't stand up by himself right now,” he says. Asshole. Can't believe I thought he was cool, even for a minute there.

So what's a guy to do? I get up. Not the first time I've cracked a rib. The knee thing's pretty new, but I put my weight on it and it's...fucking awful, but not as bad as that time Dad threw me down the basement stairs and I broke my ankle. I remember walking up those rickety old stairs on that because Lisa needed dinner – that was hard. This? This is fine. I can do this. 

He-man is still standing there, looking kinda halfway impressed and halfway like he's doubting my sanity. He's between me and the door. Guy is seriously way too large to be in juvie hall.

“Yeah, I think I'm good,” I say to him.“I guess I'll see you at dinner later.” That's a lie. The stupid little cot I got assigned is looking like a slice of heaven right now, even without taking something for the pain.

He rolls his eyes. “Chill, kid. I'm not gonna take it out of your ass; I just hate Tony's guts. You know the nurse won't give you any pills to help with that unless you're bleeding, right?”

I look up at him, frowning a bit. I know it's true – it might be my first day, but I'd heard plenty of stories on my way here. But with a bit of help...

“You wanna come distract her while I lift some?” I blurt out, and regret it a second later. Dad always says you don't ask for help, you put yourself in a position where people ask to help you. Asking for help shows your weakness, shows you need something.

But the guy doesn't call me out on it, just looks at me like he's thinking about it. “You think you're good enough to pull it off? They know what to look for.” 

“I know I am.” 

He shrugs and grins at me. “Grab me something sweet while you're there and we got ourselves a deal. I'm Mick.”

“Uh, I'm Leonard. Or Leo.” 

The guy – Mick – snorts. “Yeah, no. How about Len?”

I roll my eyes and test out my leg. It's holding me better, so it's probably just bruised. “Yeah, whatever. You coming or not?”

He nods and steps out of the way. As we walk out of there, I look up at Mick. “So, I gotta know. They make a mistake and subtract five years from your age, or are there steroids in the water?”

“Fuck off kid,” he said, but in a friendly way. “I'm nineteen; I got another year to go before they'll kick me out.” 

I knew they sometimes kept kids in juvie as far as twenty one if they got sentenced before they turned eighteen, but there weren't a lot of crimes that you actually got sentenced for that. I give him a look.

He grins happily. “Arson.”

“Nice. Theft for me.”

“Shoplifting?”

“Diamonds.”

“Sweet.”


End file.
